


Understanding Loneliness

by Starrcrossrose



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 09:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrcrossrose/pseuds/Starrcrossrose
Summary: A Game of Thrones AU inspired by rutbisbe's AU art this month!---Vegeta is the last of his people, while Bulma is close to the last of hers.The Prince thinks of his first meetings and friendship with Bulma as he fights through hoards of frozen, dead mortals.





	Understanding Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rutbisbe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutbisbe/gifts).



It didn’t make any sense to him. Vegeta was in his element, surrounded by battle cries, screams of victory and death, blood and sweat and dirt rubbing into his skin. His armor was torn and dented, his skin sliced and bruised, and the joy of winning was beginning to wash over him.

So why was the battlefield scaring him for the first time in his entire life?

The problem was, he knew the answer. Even with his dragon, Shenron, blazing trails through the throngs of the icy army of the dead, he felt deep fear. Sometime during this battle, he had lost sight of her, lost sight of the King of the Dead, and had now been fighting through group after group of enemies just trying to find her. He even found himself beginning to scan the fallen around his feet, afraid she would be among them.

Bulma Stark.

She was the head of her people, the one who had appeared before him a year ago, draped in black furs and silver, asking him to aid in the fight against the dead. He had scoffed then, had called her delusional and insane before dismissing her. But she had travelled far and was going to be staying a while. So she had. At nearly every turn in his new Keep, he had seen her, and she had badgered him. She didn’t talk much, but everything she said whenever she opened her mouth, made sense. It had pissed him off.

\-----

“Why won’t you leave me alone, woman?”

“That isn’t a very proper tone to take with the Lady of the North.” She had sighed, a small smile on her pale lips as she leaned against the cool, black stone beside him.

“You’re hardly a lady, miss.” Had been his grunted reply. “And you still didn’t answer my question.”

The cold air whistled gently through the porous stone that made up the Targaryen Keep, and the two were standing on one of the larger balconies overlooking the sea. It was a quiet day, but Vegeta had wanted to spend it alone. Still, he couldn’t help it as his eyes traveled up her clothing. She wore a navy-blue dress that went from floor to neck, the thick fabric clinging to her every curve until the black of her cape cut off the view of her slender arms and shoulders. Her hair was tied back, leaving a sleek trail of icy blue down her back, mixing with the dark fur around the neckline of her cape. He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, and she had proven to be extremely intelligent, but he wouldn’t fight other people’s battles. Not anymore.

She turned to him ever do slightly, her hip resting against the dark rock as she gave him an almost sad smile, the silver gleam of her gauntlets catching the light as she ran a hand along the stone. “I can’t help it that you’re one of the only people on this island I can talk to that breathes real air. Besides,” she faced the sea once more, a full look of sorrow washing over her. “I have nowhere else to go.”

\-----

Vegeta sliced through more dead men, his sword growing slick from ice and blood. Shoving the body off his dragon-steel blade, he scanned again for her. Battle was easy for him, but he knew she wasn’t nearly as experienced. He didn’t doubt her skill, but they were going up against a man who had lived for centuries behind The Wall, calculating his strike against Westeros before spreading to the rest of the world. King Cold, as they had dubbed him, had brought the largest army Vegeta had ever seen, and he had lost Bulma in the madness.

As he searched, he couldn’t help but think of everything she had said since he met her. Everything she had done and felt and fought for. He had thought her crazy, but he had been so wrong.

\-----

Vegeta was so tired. He had trained with the man that had accompanied Lady Bulma, some fool named Goku, when he heard it. Singing. It was a soft and gentle melody, but the voice was strong and carried throughout the hallways. He had followed it, curious, until he stopped dead in his tracks just inside an archway to the gardens. 

Bulma was there, wearing gray pants and a black, fully-sleeved shirt, and dark boots that looked muddied from the rain earlier that day. Her hair was braided up into a twisted bun that reminded him very much of dragon scales. The same scales that she was, in fact, currently touching. Shenron, his trusted dragon, was snoozing softly as Bulma sang, her hands gently wandering the deep, green scales in awe. She spied him from the corner of her eye and grinned, waving him over. His stubborn mind told him to stay put, but his feet moved on their own.

When he stopped several feet behind her, she spoke as if to the dragon, but he knew the words were for him. “I used to have a beautiful dire wolf. He was this massive, hulking beast with black fur and red eyes. I named him Scratch because, at the time, I was a child. I had no idea what was to come, or how much hardship I would have to endure just to keep what little family I had, alive. But Scratch… he always loved when I sang him lullabies. I learned them from my mother. And when I learned from my father how to fight, how to win, how to be smarter than your opponent, Scratch was there watching me. But, when the Lannister’s killed my father and mother… well, I lost everything. They invaded my home, destroyed my life, took me into their court for sick amusement. But, I got out. And I sometimes think I still see Scratch from the shadows, watching over me.”

Her eyes glistened with tears when she looked at him, but her expression was fiery and filled with vengeance. It stirred embers in him that he swore had died long ago. Bulma spoke again, her voice quivering with emotion. “After we defeat King Cold’s army, I will feed the Lannister queen to my wolf in full.”

\-----

An icy, dead snow leopard knocked him to his back, the dark blue and black mouth snapping at his throat as he tries to position his sword for the head. He held it back with a forearm, but only barely, the dark crimson and gold of his worn down armor tearing under its sharpened claws. With a yell and a shift of his body, he beheaded the creature, the bright blue glow in its eyes fading, jaw open in a mid-snarl.

Panting, Vegeta picked himself up off the ground and scanned the battle around him. There was so much chaos and blood, he wasn’t quite sure who was an enemy and who wasn’t. The only hint he had to go on was the icy white and blue skin of the dead, or the vibrant, strawberry red of the House Lannister, trying to sabotage their forces. How in god’s name was he supposed to find her?!

After turning a few circles, he couldn’t take it anymore. Lifting his head higher, he opened his mouth and prayed he would be heard over the ringing crash of battle. “Bulma!”

Waiting a moment, he let his heightened sense of hearing try to pick through the noise for her, for a voice he would know anywhere. He noticed a thicker wave of the undead gathering toward a point and began to make his way, his gut telling him that King Cold must be there. Which meant that Bulma was probably close by. “BULMA! YOU BETTER ANSWER ME, WOMAN!”

Still he heard nothing, and the cool feeling of sweat traced down his spine, making him shiver. It was so damn cold in the North already, but the icy King had brought winter with him in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a small boy. Bulma had been right about the sheer strength of King Cold’s power. Not only that, but she had been right about him.

\-----

“Why won’t you fight?!” She yelled, hands grasping her wooden sparring sword as she panted in the ring across from him. Her slim body was poised correctly for this sparring match, though Vegeta could see a few openings to attack her with. 

“We’ve been over this,” he snarled, swirling his own wooden sword in the air before launching into her space, jabbing and feinting without mercy. “I have no reason to fight for a country that cast out and killed me family.”

Bulma blocked a blow he had sworn she wouldn’t see, before landing a rough jab into his ribs. Damn, she was getting better. Still, he got a hit in on her arm before she twisted away from him to recalculate her next move. Her deep blue eyes were glittering with… something. Was that anger, or was it desperation? Maybe even something else… it looked like loneliness. She looked like him.

“Those were the Kings of Old.” She hissed, stance fierce as her pretty, pink mouth twisted up to flash her teeth. He felt his gut stir at the sight of her. “They’re all dead, and now someone smarter and much more sinister is going to rule the land. You have a chance to take the Nine Kingdoms back, to help me restore balance and peace.”

“I owe them nothing. They took everything from me!" He found himself getting riled up, getting ready to argue. It seemed like it was something they did best during her stay. It had already been nearly a month, and this particular subject had simmered down recently, but now she seemed angrier than he had ever seen her.

“You’re not the only one who lost everything!” She yelled, charging forward and swinging her sword wildly. At first her attacks seemed blinded and unfocused, but when he found himself struggling to push her back, he felt his eyes widening. Blocking her attacks was harder, and so was keeping up with her fast and graceful footwork. “Every night I think of what the Lannister’s took from me! I think of my mother, given to the previous King as a trophy before the Queen poisoned her! I think of my father, who they beheaded for false treason right before my eyes! I think of my sister, who I forced into fleeing without me because I didn’t want her to meet the same fate! I endured night after night of being with the Queen’s awful son, doing my best to survive in a place where the rules of the game were brains and endurance!” 

With a primal yell, she feinted with her sword, then launched her shoulder into Vegeta’s chest, unbalancing him. She wrapped an arm around one of his legs and pulled, knocking him to his back and then leaned over his chest. One of her knees was planted firmly in his chest, her wooden sword lay against his neck, and her braided hair was starting to come undone as she glared down at him. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She was the most stunning thing he had ever seen.

Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “You talk about not owing this country anything, but what about owing yourself something. Have you no fire for vengeance against those who wronged you?”

He stared up at her, his gut blazing as they stared at one another. Without thinking, he reached up to touch her face, blood starting to trickle from a cut he had given her earlier in their fight. She froze, eyebrows lifting slightly as her eyes followed his hand before settling on him once more. He wanted to say something, to tell her he thought she was wrong even when he knew deep down that she was right. But, before he could say anything, she stood from him and wiped the blood on the sleeve of her black shirt. 

“I came here to find a King,” her voice was hoarse as one, angry tear streaked down her small, pale face. “But instead I found a coward.”

\-----

His breath caught in his throat as he finally hit the wall of frozen bodies, cutting down one after another of the snarling things. Vegeta didn’t see them, his body moving of it’s own accord as tunnel vision took over. Bulma Stark, the woman who had finally pushed him into action, was fighting the King of the Dead. 

Her sword tip was gone, a jagged white edge against the blacks and browns of the dead army's tattered clothes and armor. Snow stuck in her hair, which had now come loose from its braids, and was now much shorter. King Cold held the end of he braid, the blue streamer of it flowing in the wind. He had cuts that flowed deep blue blood, his ice crown pointed and glittering as he stared impassively at Bulma. She was breathing heavily, her black and silver armor dented, clothes torn in places to reveal purple and blue bruises blossoming, laced with gashes of red. 

Immediately, Vegeta felt a rage from deep within himself, the flame of his silver-blonde hair whipping behind him as the winds picked up speed. He called out for Bulma again, his insides begging that she would turn to him, let him protect her, let him die for her if necessary. He had failed her greatly once, he didn’t want her life's end to be his next greatest loss. He didn’t think he could handle losing the only other person he truly cared for.  
But, even with his nearness, she didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes were filled with determination, her feet planted as she shifted to a fighting position he immediately recognized. He had taught it to her, had told her that it would help her time and time again when she wanted to go for a killing blow. 

Her eyes had seemed afraid of him for the first time that day. She had seen him for the killing mess he had grown up to be, had listened as he regaled his childhood as quickly as possible under slavery of a foreign ruler. When he had grown strong enough, cunning enough, he had killed his master with the help of his dragon, Shenron. He had won his freedom, and he was trying to make her understand why he was done fighting, even as the thought of battle had punched adrenaline through his veins. 

She had seen right through him. But she had learned what he taught her, and for some reason, she hadn't run away. He still remembered how her hands had tightened their grip on her wooden sword, how she had mirrored his motion as he taught her how to move, how to attack. He remembered how her eyes had glazed over when he leaned close with his sparring sword over her heart, face close to hers as her blue gaze flicked to his mouth and her cheeks had flushed. The moment had been thick and electric, his blood surging throughout his body when her hands began to shake at her side. They had been so close to one another when the cold plunge of reality hit them at the arrival of her travel comrades, Goku and Chi Chi. 

Now, as she readied herself to strike, he only wanted to tell her to stop, to move away. He was so close now, purging through the crowd of enemies to reach her in the wide space the two were fighting in. He wanted to believe she could do it, reminding himself that she had even bested him one or twice during their matches. Her focus was obviously strong, but the thought if watching her fall, watching her blood run into the snow and dirt beneath them, terrified him like nothing else.

So, as she gave a battle cry and charged forward, he tilted his head to the sky, closed his eyes, and yelled. “SHENRON!”

\-----

It was the day that Bulma was set to leave. She hadn't spoken to him in days, even going so far as to turn and walk another way if they happened to run into one another. He had let it happen for the first day or two, still mad from their last argument. It had taken a whole night after she called him a coward to not follow her to her room and break down her doors, tell her how wrong she was. But, even though his seething fury, her cold eyes had nailed him to the spot when he had sat up from the floor, watching her leave until the training room doors slammed behind her. 

He had posted himself by the doors to the beach, knowing they were to leave by boat, and watched as Chi Chi bossed around some of the men that had accompanied Bulma to the island. She was in the middle of telling them where to place things for their trip when the sound of strong footsteps echoed through the hallways.

Turning, he saw Goku striding towards him. Normally, someone of his height and bulk would instantly make Vegeta wary, but the man was like a court jester, and even though he had seen Goku's strength and skill, he didn’t find him intimidating at all. Instead, he found him challenging, both mentally and physically. But, something in Goku's expression today was different. He was serious.

“Kakarot,” Vegeta nodded, arms crossed as he addressed the man with his birth name. “What do you want?”

The warrior sighed. “I told you, call me Goku. Kakarot is a name I abandoned long ago.”

Vegeta only clicked his tongue and looked away, back out towards the clear water lapping at the dark sand of the shore. Goku heaved another sigh before speaking again. “Listen. About you and Bulma –”

“Don’t,” Vegeta interrupted, still not looking at him. “Don’t start. There is nothing I can do for her. She asks too much of me and I don’t have enough to give.”

“You have a dragon.”

“That I can just barely control. He trusts me, in a weird way, and I know he won't eat me. But, bringing him to a battlefield full of people and brimming with destruction, will only mean more harm than help if his blood gets going. I would be of no real help in your fight.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

Vegeta bristled, finally facing the man before him and growling up at him. “What do you know, Kakarot? You may have known Bulma her whole life, but you sure as shit haven't known me. I’ve spent my entire life fighting, just pushing to survive and be free. You’ve been more than comfortable from what I’ve seen, and you even got to choose who you serve.”

“That may be true, but –”

“But nothing! She may be strong, and she may be smart, but her choosing to come ask for my aid was the dumbest thing she could've done.”

Goku's face darkened. “Watch yourself, prince. You can say whatever you want about me, but not about Bulma. She has sacrificed much to make her way out here to see you. Sure, she wants your help, and I even suggested against it, but she came anyway. You want to know why?”

Vegeta couldn’t even form a response before Goku continued. “She wanted to learn from you. She didn’t come here just because of the rumor of your dragon, or the scary reputation that reached her. She came because she heard that a prince had lost everything, had been sold off to slave holders to try and pay back debts, and had broken free of those chains to claim their future, was here. She heard of someone who had freed themselves of a near impossible situation out of sheer will. Bulma saw herself in you.”

The words soaked into him, surprising him more than he wished. He was a monster from the ground up, a lost man and child, an orphan who was constantly on the run. What could someone as pure and strong as Bulma see in him?

The answer hit him square in the face just as Goku passed him, headed out onto the beach to help his wife prepare the boats. He took a step as if to follow the man, only to hear Goku call over his shoulder. “If you want to see her before we go, she's in her room.”

And so, without another word, he turned back into his Keep and strode through the hallways. He understood now, piecing together the small bits of her life she had dropped for him. They were both utterly alone in this cruel world. Maybe, just maybe, he could tell her the truth.

\-----

The heavy whoosh of wings filled the air, the hum of his dragon's growl rippling across the snow and vibrating his bones. Shenron swooped down onto the field, his dark green scales glowing with the heat of fire in his chest, wings spread wide as he roared. He towered above the waves of soldiers and, as if he could read Vegeta’s mind, blew a ring of searing fire into the icy army. 

Half the section they were standing by melted instantly, Vegeta feeling the fire but knowing it couldn’t hurt him. He managed to push through into the clearing, watching as Bulma's broken sword clashed into the icy spear of King Cold. He pushed her back, but Bulma was ready, her body moving smoothly as she twisted around the spear, the nearly translucent dragon-glass of her blade glinting as she dove in. Her motions followed Vegeta's instructions effortlessly, fainting with her sword before kicking in one of the King's knees. There was a loud crack as he stumbled, but Bulma was ruthless. She swept behind the King, crashing an elbow into the back of his head before shifting again to his side, her knee colliding with the King's ribs. He fell over, swinging his spear wildly, obviously surprised at Bulma's speed and skill.

Vegeta tried to get to her, Shenron sliding behind him and pumping his wings to keep oncoming enemies away with the force of it. He could see she was doing well, but something felt off about this fight. It was too easy, to come all this way and face one of their strongest, greatest enemies and have him be struck down by only one mortal human. No, his lifelong experience told him, his instincts told him, that there was something very wrong. 

He sprinted towards Bulma, very nearly flying for her, when a razor-edge column of ice shot out of the ground, hitting Bulma along her side. She had dodged the brunt of the attack, but another column was coming up from her blind spot. She wouldn’t be able to regain her footing in time, and Vegeta put more strength into his stride, dropping his sword as he reached for her.

“Bulma!”

He crashed into her just as the blade shot from the ground, the ice slicing through his clothes near his lower back, the heat of blood replacing the cold. He wrapped his arms around her as they tumbled to a stop a few feet away, both of them breathing heavy. He kept one arm around her as he pushed them to their elbows, his eyes checking her over for any severe wounds. Her blue eyes locked onto his dark ones, mouth open as she gasped for air.

“Vegeta, where did you come from? Wait… wait, Vegeta, it didn’t work.” She croaked, chest heaving as blood trickled from her forehead to her chin. “It almost did but…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Vegeta muttered, helping lift them to their knees. “You did everything perfectly. But, this is no average man we're fighting. He’s playing dirty.”

As he said this, they both heard the King getting to his feet, bones creaking and snapping loudly as he got up to face them. For the first time since the fight started, he didn’t look impassive or uninterested. In fact, he looked like he might even be annoyed. Vegeta took it as a good and bad sign, since that meant Bulma made a dent in him, but also that he would fight more seriously now. 

She shivered slightly as they finally got to their feet, her feet planting into the soft ground as Vegeta realized neither of them had a weapon in their hands. Her sword lay in the snow to his left, closer to them than King Cold, while his was behind the King more on Bulma's side. Immediately, Vegeta's brain started forming a plan, one that would be tricky and would require near-perfect synchronization. 

“What should we do?” She asked, her eyes already following the movements of King Cold. Damn, he liked her focus. 

Even with the odds stacked against them in this moment, he couldn’t help the wolfish grin he flashed her. “Then we play dirty, too.”

\-----

Her door was locked and he could hear her slamming her luggage around, mumbling to herself. Normally, he would find it annoying or amusing, but in this moment, he found her temper almost frightening. For the first time in his life, Vegeta knew without a doubt that he was in the wrong, that he was gazing through a lens of twisted perspective, and that he had been content to stay hidden.

Finally, after standing outside her door for what felt like hours but had only been minutes, he lifted a white-gloved hand and knocked. Taking a step back from her door, he listened as she paused in her tirade before stomping to the tall, crimson wooden doors and yanking one open.

“Goku, for the last time, I will not speak to –” she paused abruptly at the sight of him, eyes widening in shock before furrowing in distaste. “What?”

He cleared his throat, not knowing how to give an apology or how to admit his arrogance. The sick feeling in his gut was extremely foreign, and it made him squirm. Just how much power did this woman have over him? He had become a fool, a man made of clay instead of stone. She had begun to mold him, but into what, he wasn’t sure.

Bulma scoffed, her weight shifting to one side as she tossed her hair over one shoulder. “If you have nothing to say, your Majesty, then please let me finish packing in peace.”

“It didn’t sound peaceful to me.” 

The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to punch himself. Why did he always have to goad her into a squabble instead of just talking like a normal human? 

Instead of shooting back a response, however, he watched as her head fell back a bit, eyes travelling to the ceiling. “Well… I guess you’re right. Maybe not ‘in peace' but without others around would be nice.”

Her words were obviously dismissive to him, but he stayed put. “Lady Stark, I have to speak with you.”

“Oh, now you wish to talk? Listen, we’ve had plenty of time for that, and you’ve made yourself very clear that you don’t want to help me.”

Vegeta took a small step forward, trying to slowly close the gap between them. “Lady Stark, I’ve been thinking about your offer since you arrived. I’ve been turning it over in my head and –”

She held up a hand to silence him, the deep blue of her eyes turning cold and distant. “No. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I can win this without you, without Shenron. I’ve always had it in me to win.”

“Lady Stark –”

“Goodbye, Prince.”

Vegeta couldn’t take it. He took one great stride forward and placed a hand on the door she had been closing in his face. “Bulma, please.”

Her tiny fingers gripped the wood of the door and the fabric of her red silk dress with intensity. Vegeta had only called her by her first name once since her visit, and it had been without thinking during a night of wine and sleep-drunk thoughts. Neither person had been able to fall into a decent slumber, so they had found one another in the gardens, the ceiling open to let the moonlight in as they sat in near silence all night together. He still couldn’t remember what they had spoken about, but she had stopped speaking to him shortly after.

“Bulma,” he tried again, his tone sounding like a beg, even to his own ears, but he knew this may be his last chance. They were standing so close, only the width of the wooden door separating them, but it felt like miles. He didn't know if he could tell her. He didn't know if she would accept that, at first he had refused her request out of indifference, then out of annoyance, but that the last couple weeks meant something else. He had begun to refuse her because he was afraid of failing, afraid of losing, and afraid of how he had started to feel for her. Vegeta, Prince of a dead House, last of his name, and keeper of the world's last dragon, was afraid of a tiny, feisty woman from the North. He was a fool, but he had to try. “Let me… I want to tell you… I mean…”

“Vegeta?” she breathed, eyes curious.

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go alone. I want to come with you, to help you. I don’t want you to die.” His throat was tightening, but he pushed through, gathering whatever courage a coward like him could. “I care about you, Lady Bulma, and I hate it. I’ve never cared for anyone but myself, and then you show up on my island of solace and rip that all to shreds. I cannot let you go alone, just like I don’t think I can comfortably be left alone here in my Keep. Bulma –”

Suddenly, she was grasping the front of his shirt and pulling him into the room. The door clicked shut behind them as she pulled him closer to her. Her next words were a whisper, and he could taste the anxious nerves she held in them. “Vegeta… why won't you just kiss me?”

He felt air leave his lungs like a gut punch, but immediately found his hands pulling her in, cupping her face as his mouth crashed into hers. Her tears were hot as they soaked into his gloves, but her hands held him to her so tightly that he knew she understood.

They were both the loneliest people in the world. They had to stick together.

\-----

Vegeta swore she could read his mind. The moment King Cold lunged for them, Bulma broke away from him and ran the opposite way. The move threw off the King for a moment, but he quickly regained himself as he spun his spear towards Bulma in an arc that would’ve caught her and Vegeta both if they were inexperienced opponents. Instead, Bulma slid to her knees, her back bending slightly as the spear cut the air above her head. Then, Vegeta blocked the last of the swing with the gauntlet on his left arm, his momentum carrying him over Bulma's dropped blade as his right hand grasped it. 

King Cold recovered, going instead for Vegeta who was in front of him and within range. Lifting his spear, the King swung for the Targaryen Prince's head. Vegeta blocked it with his sword before swirling the blade around the spear shaft, twisting it away from his body. He began a frontal attack, the two more than evenly matched. In fact, as they fought, Vegeta began to wonder how Bulma had held her own for so long without backup; this man was terrifyingly strong and fast, especially for a dead man.

Just as Vegeta was giving a strong push into the King, Bulma slid into view, black blade slicing into the King's calf as she stood from her slide and readied the sword. She was grinning now, blood already frozen over along her body. She looked like a snow queen, a true leader and warrior, and Vegeta knew that she was ready to kill or be killed.

King Cold made a noise, a screeching that stung Vegeta's ears, and the ground began to shake beneath them. More spear-like columns began to sprout from the ground, seemingly at random, and Bulma had to jump back to avoid being hit. Vegeta followed suit, forcing the two of them further apart. In fact, they had to start fending off some other dead soldiers as they rushed in at their King's call. Vegeta was starting to get annoyed with it all, just wanting to finish this fight so he could stop worrying so deeply about Bulma, and he backed up into the mini forest of ice spears to help weed out the incoming enemies. It worked surprisingly well at first, but when the numbers began to grow from seemingly nowhere, he snarled outwardly before looking toward the sky again. “Shenron! You better help me out!”

Suddenly, a wave of flames washed through the ice, melting the enemies instantly with the heat and leaving soot marks on Vegeta's fire-proof outfit. He glared up at the dragon, who had apparently been close by the entire time. “What, were you just content to watch me struggle?”

The dragon huffed noisily before turning his large, horned head and breathing another stream of molten flame at the armies around them. He looked back down to Vegeta as if he were proving a point and the prince couldn’t help but smile knowingly. “Ok, fine, do as you wish. But we need to protect Bulma. I cant find her in all this ice, but you might burn her if you just melt it all. Let's find her together.”

Shenron lowered his head a bit, allowing Vegeta to climb swiftly onto his back where neck met body, and gave a silent press of his hands to move forward. Shenron roared, charging forward ne raising his head as he melted every weapon flying for him, the heat surrounding his body enough to bring down almost anything thrown his way. Vegeta kept an eye out for blue hair, for black and silver armor and a black blade. He tightened his grip on her sword, the broken edge of it glinting in the fire light of his dragon's breath. 

There.

His heart leapt into his throat, watching as King Cold strode up to her as she knelt on the ground, crimson staining the snow around her as blood poured from a wound in her shoulder. Shenron seemed to sense the fear and urgency in Vegeta because, before the King could land a final blow, he charged forward and lowered his head, roaring as he swung his horns right for the King and sending him soaring through his frozen forest until he lay limp several long yards away. 

Vegeta jumped off Shenron's back and jogged to Bulma's side. “Hey! Are you alright?”

She spat a clump of blood from her mouth and give him an unamused frown. “Do I look alright to you?”

Rolling his eyes out of habit, he reached for her and pulled her close to him. “You must be if you can give an attitude like that.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m beyond pissed off.”

“At me or King Cold?” He was teasing her, but it was mostly to distract from the insane amount of blood coming from her shoulder. The wound ran deep.

“King Cold, but don’t count yourself fully off the list. I know you’ll do something later to make me mad.”

He chuckled at that, cradling her for just a moment into his chest as he inspected her wound. With a frown, he made eye contact with her. “I’m going to have to cauterize this, Bulma. You’re losing too much blood.”

She froze momentarily, body rigid as nerves tried to fight over the logic of it. But, she nodded anyway, waiting as Vegeta wiped one of his gauntlets with the inside of his skin-tight shirt and picked her up. He carried her as close as he dared to Shenron's side, knowing she wasn’t dragon-proof like he was. Setting her down, he took the final few strides to the dragon's side and laid his gauntlet against the burning scales. Then, moving as quickly as he could, he moved to Bulma, ripped her sleeve off, and put his free hand on the back of her neck, pulling her face to his. “This is gonna hurt.”

He laid the softly glowing metal against her wound and immediately, she began to scream, her hands digging into his neck and shoulder as she buried her face against him, trying to muffle the pain. But, she didn’t jerk away, didn’t punch him or threaten him. She merely curled into him and let involuntary tears streak her face as he sealed her wound shut. He knew he would have to reopen it later to properly clean it, and she would hate it much more than this, but he couldn’t care. As long as she was alive, as long as they both made it through this, that was all that mattered. She was all that mattered. 

When he was done, she looked like she might pass out, but he drew her mouth to his and kissed her deeply. She moaned slightly, returning the kiss as he sensed her energy returning. When he finally broke away from her, she was smiling a bit. “That’s one way to wake a lady up.”

Vegeta grinned. “I can't have you falling asleep. We have a King to slaughter.”

The fire of battle returned to her eyes and it took far more willpower not to kiss her again than he thought it would. “You’re right,” she grinned, picking up Vegeta's sword and exchanging weapons with him. “Let’s finish this, so we can finish what you just started.”

+++++

Ten minutes passed and the dead were finally starting to dwindle. Shenron had gotten busy burning through any and all enemies while protecting his master, while he and Bulma were finally winning the fight. They had cornered King Cold, the man littered with lacerations and navy blood. He was practically growling, his deadened teeth exposed as he called up more weapons from the ground. But they were getting weaker, the heat of Shenron's flames finally taking a toll on the ice powers of King Cold.

“You will never have Westeros,” Bulma panted, her sword chipped even more from their fight, but her determination strong. “It belongs to the living. You will die here, by my hand, if it's the last thing I do.”

Vegeta was blocking the only exit King Cold had, his breath no longer creating heat clouds in the air. It was warming up, making Vegeta's energy return as he watched his woman stalk her prey. Bulma had the final move; her victory was not something Vegeta would take from her. 

With a roar, the King swept a hand across the air, bristles of ice springing from the ground. His movements were slower, and Bulma's adrenaline made her faster, her legs pushing her back before she chatted forward, jumping over the frozen spikes and raising her sword. The King tried to raise more weapons, but they shattered on impact from Bulma's attacks, pushing him further and further back. Just before the King hit a wall, he summoned a final, large attack. A broad sword, nearly glowing blue with the King's power, swung right for Bulma's head. She ducked, swooped behind him, and with a scream of anger, she pushed herself off the thawing rocks behind him and came down with her blade, the dragon-glass slicing clean through King Cold's neck.

+++++

The euphoric cheers of soldiers were a distant sound as one after another of the icy dead fell for good, the magic in their bodies dissolving with the death of their King. However, all of that was distant to him, background static in his tunnel vision. All he could think, see, smell, touch, taste and feel was her. She had done it. She was alive, her head leaned back as she let out a cry of victory, King Cold's head on the ground at her feet. She was covered in blood and bruises, but he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Bulma was the strongest and most beautiful woman in the entire world.

When her voice began to fade out, he closed the distance between them. Then, as she turned to look at him, her legs buckled, falling to her knees as she gazed at him. He followed suit beside her, tearing off his gloves and touching her face with his hands, holding her gaze steady as he held her.

“You are incredible.” He rasped, hoping the true meaning of his words got through to her.

“I know,” she whispered, tired eyes closing as she gave him a sincere smile. “Afterall, I am the Lady of the North.”

Vegeta laughed softly and she kissed him, her bloodied, cold hands skimming his cheeks and neck as she pulled him closer. Their victory was won, but all that mattered was her.

 

~ Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading!  
> I literally could not stop thinking about this AU, and this one-shot took me 3 days to write bc I kept thinking I was gonna make it short, and then DIDN'T, lol!  
> Hope you guys like it!


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